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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27174325">That Smell</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenya66/pseuds/Kenya66'>Kenya66</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Inspired by Music, Short Story, TW: Suicide Mention</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:00:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,206</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27174325</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenya66/pseuds/Kenya66</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Carrie had learned over the years that the smell of death came in many scents.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Female Character/Original Male Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>That Smell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This short story is inspired by the Lynard Skynard song, "That Smell", and based off the prompt: "Write a short story about a mistake that results in wonderful conseuences."</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Carrie hated the antiseptic smell of the hospital.  It reminded her of that Lynyrd Skynyrd song - <em>the smell of death surrounds you.</em>  Sitting in the waiting room, the memories she had fought so long and hard to get rid of came flooding back.</p><p>Carrie, age 9 sitting in Dr. Owens' office while he and Mama conversed in hushed tones.  The ubiquitous smell of antiseptic permeated her nostrils.</p><p>Carrie, age 10 sitting in a hospital, waiting for Mama to come out of surgery.  Praying to God for a good report. </p><p>Carrie, now age 11 sitting in the front row of the funeral parlor.  A new smell assailing her, the smell of wood polish mixed with the floral scent of the many bouquets that surrounded the coffin.  The smell of cigarette smoke as Uncle Harry came back in from the parking lot.  The combined smell of the many perfumes of the well wishers who had come to hug the "poor child" and offer condolences.</p><p>Carrie, still age 11 running into Daddy's bedroom.  The smell of gun oil and gun powder mixed with the coppery smell of blood and brain matter.  Daddy lying on the floor.  He couldn't get passed the death of Mama.</p><p>Carrie had learned over the years that the smell of death came in many scents.  Every fragrance meant the same thing, sadness, grief and loneliness.  Carrie hated that smell, had run from that smell since she was a girl.  She had vowed never to visit a hospital or funeral home ever again.</p><p>This vow had cost her friendships, had hurt those she loved.  They couldn't understand.</p><p>"Why won't you come see the baby?"</p><p>"You missed your cousin Clara's funeral!"</p><p>This hurt Carrie, brought more pain and loneliness.  She couldn't help it.  Her 11-year-old mind kept telling her, "Never again."</p><p>And yet here she was sitting in the same hospital, in the same seat she sat in when she was 10.  Her thoughts screaming at her to run.  Leave this place of death.  Go anywhere but here.  But she couldn't, not until the test results came back.  Life or death rested in the words printed on a paper.  Bart, her husband, sat next to her.  He tried to comfort her but she found no comfort in his words.  He tried, but he couldn't understand and Carrie couldn't adequately explain.  What words could she use that would help him understand about the aroma that permeated all her memories, the one that followed her everywhere like some unseen wraith ready to pounce.</p><p>Carrie was foolish enough to think love could overcome it.  Bart had entered her life bringing with him a whole new smell.  The smell of love.  The smell of his aftershave when he held her close.  The crisp smell of the linen wedding dress she wore at their nuptials.  The smell of the ocean spray hitting them as they lay in the sand celebrating their honeymoon.</p><p>For two glorious years the smell of love filled her and Bart's life.  Carrie had left the past far behind.  The future was wide open and full of possibilities…until Carrie learned that you can't outrun death.</p><p>  It hides in the background of your life, letting you experience joy, making you believe that all is well.  Until one day it pounces on you like Tigger on Winnie the Pooh.  You realize that it had never left you at all.  It was there all the time, mocking you, waiting until your guard was down.</p><p>That morning, one month ago.  Carrie thought it was the flu, until it didn't go away.  Everyday, the nausea and vomiting…just like Mama.  "Oh God, it's found me, too."</p><p>The trip to Dr. Owens office.  Carrie couldn't even believe he was still practicing medicine.</p><p>"Carrie, it's been a lot of years.  How have you been?" said Dr Owens with the familiar crinkle to his nose as he smiled.</p><p>But to Carrie he still looked the same.  The grey hair and crows feet around the eyes couldn't fool her.  When she saw him, she still saw his jet black hair.  She saw the grim visage as he and Mama discussed her prognosis. And his office - <em>the smell of death surrounds you.  </em>Why did she come here?  Bart had insisted she go get checked out.  But why Owens, why here?  Simple, she'd never been to another doctor.  Had avoided ever stepping foot again into the Reaper's parlor.</p><p>She explained her symptoms to Dr. Owens.  She received the same grim look from years prior. </p><p>"Don't worry, Carrie, let's send you for a scan and see what we find," he told her.</p><p>But Carrie knew what he really meant "Like mother, like daughter."  Carrie no longer saw Dr. Owens standing before her.  She saw a large shape in a black, hooded robe holding a scythe.  Cancer had pounced.</p><p>Weeks later.  Dr. Owens' office.</p><p>"Carrie I don't want to alarm you.  We've found a mass in your uterus," he told her.</p><p>But Carrie couldn't hear him.  His voice was drowned out by the screams in her head, "Like mother, like daughter."  This was followed by the laughter, like Dick Dastardly in those old cartoons. </p><p>"Carrie, I'm going to send you to the hospital for more tests.  Nothing to worry about, it's just routine," Dr. Owens told her.</p><p>Carrie knew, however.  She saw it in his face.  He thought it <em>was</em> something and he was worried.</p><p>So here she was, waiting to hear her sentence.  Foolish mortal, you can't outrun death.  How much time would she have?  Did they catch it early enough?  Could she maybe have a few years reprieve?  Would Bart turn out like Daddy?</p><p>Carried snuggled into Bart and buried her head in his chest.  She breathed in his scent, trying once more to remember the smell of love.  What will happen to her?</p><p>Then the sounds of rubber-soled loafers coming towards them.  The sounds of words.  Dr. Owens was speaking.  The screams and cynical laughter filled her head.</p><p>"Bart and Carrie." (evil laughter)</p><p>"I owe you an apology." (screams)</p><p>"It's just that your mother's cancer can be inherited." (wail of despair)</p><p>"I jumped to conclusions." (more maniacal laughter)</p><p>"I made a mistake." (laughter fading)</p><p>What was he saying?</p><p>Bart, jumping up and down whooping with joy.</p><p>Huh?</p><p>"Dr. Owens what did you just say?"</p><p>"I said it wasn't a mass in your uterus.  Carrie you don't have cancer, you have a baby!"</p><p>Suddenly another sound filled Carrie's head, drowning out the laughter and screams.  It was a song.  Barry White's "Love's Theme" started playing, it's syncopated beat playing in her mind.</p><p>"What?  A baby?"</p><p>"Yes Carrie," Dr. Owens replied.</p><p>"You’re going to be a mommy!" Bart said as he lifted her in the air and swung her around.</p><p>Nine months later, Carrie was back at the hospital.  The sound of the rhythmic breathing of her little girl filled her mind.  Carrie had found a new smell, one that she would cherish throughout her future.  It was the smell of baby shampoo and lotion.  It was that indefinable scent that only comes from a newborn.  It was the scent of flowers placed haphazardly throughout her hospital room.  It was the smell of <em>life</em>.  Love had conquered death after all.</p>
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